Wednesday, July 29, 2015

It was a square of that meshy-grippy fabric that most people use in kitchen cupboards or drawers to keep things from moving and sliding around. Just a square, a bit bigger than my hand. This was and remains to this day my favorite wedding gift.

The giver was my grandmother.

It was delivered without wrapping paper, without bags or bows. She didn't shower me with advice, nor did she bother telling me stories from her life. She simply gave me a smile and a hug and assured me that the life I was taking on would be beautiful, and worth it, and that this little slip of fabric that she pressed into my hand would be useful. "You won't always have a man around to help you open jars and such." She said. "This will help."

Soon afterwards my sweet and funny and smart grandmother was tossed into the firm grasp of Alzheimer's. This memory, of her handing me this square of fabric is my last memory of HER her. Within a year's time she wouldn't remember my name nor my relation to her.

Her time slipped away, but mine has pressed forward and she means more to me every year though we said our goodbyes a long time ago. I have used this little square of fabric more times than I could possibly count, because she was right. And as I follow this military man around our country, the very same way she did with her husband -a man I never met thanks to Vietnam- I learn it wasn't just a scrap of fabric she left me. It was her legacy. Something practical. Something of independence. Something that demands strength but allows for a little bit of weakness too.

I wish she had left me her stories, but ultimately I guess she didn't need to because she was enough.

So I keep this little scrap of fabric in a drawer in my kitchen, and pull it out when I need it, and sometimes to open the lids of jars.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

The weather is clear and warm without heat. The world is green and singing. I'm pushing Little Man in the stroller, Hubs is walking at my side, and the Pirate is just ahead of us, stepping on our shadow heads and laughing. Hubs puts his hands up and gives his shadow head horns.
"I'm a bull. I'm going to get you!" Pirate laughs and runs. It's instantly a game. We're all creating body-sized shadow puppets on the street ahead of us.

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Little Man loves eating more than just about anything. His favorite thing to carry around is a spoon. He holds it in his right hand, and dips it in/ presses it into whatever he happens to be holding in his left hand -a bowl, a cup, a plate, a piece of paper, a car... and brings the spoon to his mouth over and over again.

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As of lately, Little Man has three words and one sound. He says momma, dada, and yeah. Sometimes he says uh-huh, always appropriately.

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Every night before laying this baby in his crib for the night, I sing "I am a Child of God" to him. Last night he kept interrupting my song with kisses to my lips. As much as I'd like to think he was feeling especially loving, I think he was trying to delay his bedtime.

Today at the grocery store a man (possibly in his 80s) ran into a sign post, and pushed it quite far before he came to a stop. I watched it happen. I was standing right there. His car window was open, and his wife was in the front seat. She hopped out and motioned for him to back-up and through all of it, not one raised voice, not one unkind word. I imagine it's *possible* that she was saving them for later, but I like to think that she wasn't. That somewhere through the course of time this wonderfully aged couple has learned the value in keeping shame out of accidents.

On the way out of the grocery store I saw a solidly middle-aged couple holding hands and swinging their arms in a youthful, playful way. She was giggling and he was grinning and I thought, "I hope that's me someday." And then I had this instant realization that IS me TODAY. Hubs and I are happy, happy, happy, playful, silly, still completely in-love, and *uh-hem* solidly middle-aged. This realization was instantly followed by: Man, my life is awesome. How did I get so very blessed?

Then I loaded my groceries and headed for home, where Hubs was (of course) reading, and Pirate was playing and Little Man was taking an afternoon nap.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Hubs is on the couch, reading.
Little Man is climbing on the couch, trying to grab Hubs' glasses, being told no, bursting into tears, crawling off the couch. He's done this four times. Currently he's between times, perched on the coffee table chewing on a toy teapot.
Pirate is trying to show me a box. It just arrived and contains my doTerra allergy pills that I'm praying and hoping and wishing and thinking will help with these seasonal allergies that have suddenly sprung into my life with cruel intention and malicious force.

Now Pirate is pulling on my body, momming me, asking for food because he's bored.

It's four o'clock.

I ran out of energy two hours ago.

My sink is stacked with dishes.

I have no idea what we'll do for dinner.

Little Man is grabbing for those glasses again.

And I'm off.

To.

Uh.

Sit here some more, wishing I could nap, knowing I can't, and counting the minutes and hours until seven when I can plop these boys in bed and...

Sit some more, avoiding the clean-up required from whatever I end up making for dinner, wishing I'd done the dishes earlier, and waiting until an appropriate time for bed.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

I'm trying to find a way to blog more often, but to do it requires I give up other things... and I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to give up those other things.

Namely: The half hour of Netflix, followed by the half hour (ish) of reading immediately before I shut my eyes on the night and call the day done. I am excessively fond of a show and some reading before bed. Truthfully, my brain isn't good for much else. It's tired at the end of the day too.

But today, right now, Little Man is sleeping and Pirate is singing and talking to himself in his bedroom. Hubs is reading some article or other and the puppy is sleeping. Of course there are a few chores I need to accomplish, but for now I think it'll be okay if I steal away some time to -if nothing else- let the world (or the two people left who read this blog) know that I am still alive.

Not thriving, but alive.

And approximately one step ahead of what needs to be done, so I guess I'm doing okay.

A friend of mine came over last night, saw my kitchen, saw my face, and refused to take no for an answer as she did my dishes and cleaned my stove-top. Wonderful woman!

In other news...

Summer begins this week as far as school is concerned. Which makes me nervous. I think I'll be hitting Pinterest up for ideas here very soon and hoping that it doesn't fail me -like it usually does when it comes to crafty things.

And...

While I blather on, I realize -I *could* be napping.

I think I'm going to head to my bed and see what happens. If I can manage a half hour before Little Man wakes up...

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Life is rolling forward. Fast. It's MAY. I think it's been more than a month since I've written, and I feel bad about that. So many moments slipped away unrecorded and therefore unremembered.

My favorite things right now: Baby still had only four teeth and his grins are just too cute. Sometimes he laughs, and that is the best. Well. My absolute favorite is when he's getting a little tired and he comes and finds me, and when I pick him up her sticks his thumb in his mouth and lays his head on my shoulder, curling his opposite arm around my neck. If he can, he plays with my hair. It's so sweet.

He's climbing on everything and into everything and I pulled him off a shelf in the pantry today. He likes to help himself to the applesauce cups. He punches holes in the top with his teeth and then sucks the applesauce out. He thinks he's so cool.

A few weeks ago, I heard a noise coming from the pantry, so I opened the door to find him on the floor, the tub of animal crackers between his legs, and about five in each fist and his cheeks bulging. He gave me this startled look followed by his best smile ever.

Pirate, in the meantime, is doing well. Still feeling a pinch of jealousy I think. I get WAY more "look at me, mom!" and "I need some mom-time." than normal, and it's exhausting. But, he's doing well in school. He's reading three letter, short a words -and super proud of himself for it.

We started swim lessons as well. Poor kid. He's near a full panic in the water. We'll need help getting though this, as in: pray for him and me please and thank you.

Hubs had surgery last week. He cannot move his left arm, he's not supposed to lift anything and he cannot drive -so things have been interesting lately. It's a little (maybe a lot) like having an extra kid all the sudden. But at least a potty-trained one that can wipe himself and (mostly) feed himself, etc.

(As a side note: As SOON as Pirate can put his undies on without needing to sit on my bathroom floor, he's learning to wipe himself because seriously. It's time.)